


Vicinity Of Obscenity

by Bixiayu



Series: omg I love making Harry sad [4]
Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Comfort, Depression, Disfigurement, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Highschool AU, Hospitalization, Hurt, I Don't Even Know, I made Norman Osborn a decent person yay, M/M, Medication, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Parksborn, Past Rape, Past Torture, Rough Sex, Scars, Sex, Superfamily, Tears, breakdowns, its ok, so many tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bixiayu/pseuds/Bixiayu
Summary: Even at age sixteen, Harry has a dark past. One look at the scars his face and anyone would be able to tell. After months of hospitalization and therapy, his father tries to reconnect him to the real world. He wants his son to live his life, he just wants his son to be happy again.Harry didn't believe that he could ever be happy again, it would take a miracle. And he didn't believe in those either. Until he met him, Peter.Essentially a story where Harry begins to learn that maybe the world isn't as cruel as he thought it was.Or maybe it still is.





	1. In Your Eyes

“Harry. I know you're not sleeping.” Norman’s loud voice rang through his ears from his bedroom door. This was the third time his father had came into his room for his son to get ready for school. “Get out of bed, I'm not asking you again.”

Harry peeked his head from the grey comforter that he was cocooned in. He didn't know why his father was trying to force him to do this, why he was forcing him to go to school. Don't get him wrong, he valued education, he knew how important it was. But moving halfway across the country to enroll into Midtown’s Science High School as a junior a couple months into the school year seemed like a death wish. Especially when Harry felt like he looked like something out of a Texas chainsaw massacre movie.

Being the new kid was rough, it was hell actually. But being the new kid when half of your face had gut wrenching scars that even your own father had trouble looking at sometimes made it even worse. When he and his father moved to New York from California two months ago, he was practically begging his father to take school online. The world was better not seeing his face anyway. But of course, Norman Osborn couldn't stand the fact of raising a moping mess as a son so he said, no.

After the “accident” he wanted Harry to go out and reconnect with the world. Which included, actually going to school and making “friends.”

Harry didn't believe in friends, not really. When he was in the hospital and took a good look at his face with all of the bandages off, all of his “friends” couldn't even stand the sight of him. They stood awkwardly by the doorway and stared. They thought Harry couldn't see them, but he did. After that, they left their flowers and get well soon cards on the small desk and left as quickly as they could.

It was unlikely that he would make any friends here. The children would either pity him, or steer clear away from him thinking he was a crack addict or something weird. In all honesty, he didn't really care what they thought. He didn't mind being alone.

The only thing he hated was when they stared. Multi colored beady little eyes piercing his skin, burning his neck. But the staring at the long scars covering half of his face was inevitable, everyone did it. Even the doctors and the nurses. They all try and hide it, but Harry saw right through them. Each and every time.

“Do I have to go?” Harry whined, sitting up to face his father. Norman was already dressed in one of his fancy suit and ties, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He didn't want to go to a public school, he just wanted to stay home where no one could see his face. But no, he just _had_ to go to an institute where everyone would just stare at him and call him names behind his back. Why couldn't his dad just let him be happy? “Why can't I just stay home?”

Norman rubbed his temples in a solution of annoyance and impatience. “Were not having this conversation again, Harry.” He muttered. “Just meet downstairs in fifteen. I need to get to work, and you need to get to school.” And with those last words, Harry was left in the cold silence of his room.

“Fuck my life.” Harry groaned.

He gradually lifted his blankets off of his body, letting the cold air attack his skin. His bare feet padded on the carpet towards his bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he grimaced. He immediately felt sorry for anyone's eyes. But then again, he wasn't forcing anyone to look at his face. Four long scars trailed down the left side from the sharp knife that one of those douchebags had in their hand as they held him down. The skin splitting, muscle ripping, the hot bloody mess-

“Stop.” He said to himself. This morning wasn't the morning to remember that moment. He shook his head and splashed cold water onto his face and rubbed his eyes. Everything was going to be alright, everything had to be alright. But then again, things ‘ _being alright_ ’ were really never his luck.

After the accident, he grew his bangs out on the left side of his face where his scars were. This long brown hair sort of hid them, just a little bit. But the tiniest bit was better than nothing.

Today was going to be fine, Harry reassured himself. All he had to do, was keep his head and not talk to anyone. And if anyone starts to stare, stare at them back. They usually got really awkward and broke eye contact.

Seemed easy enough.

∞

Harry made his way out of his room with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He had on a black tee shirt with dark navy blue jeans tucked into a pair of black leather boots. And of course, the darkest jacket he had in his closet basically swallowing his small frame.

He saw his father in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hands, reading the newspaper.

Harry walked in closer, taking a seat at the table. “I'm here.” He murmured. He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

**7:47 AM**

“With three minutes to spare.” He added.

Norman ignored his son's comment. “Aren't you going to eat anything?” He asked.

“No.”

“Why is that?” Norman asked. “Aren't you excited? You're finally going back to school.”

Blue eyes stared up at his father in disbelief. Harry wouldn't describe the feeling as excitement. “Excitement isn't the word i’m looking for.” Harry mumbles bitterly. “I would describe it as exhausting, pointless, embarrassing-”

“As I've said this before, were not having this talk again.” Norman said, his voice lowered, anger gradually bubbling through. “You're going to school today, and that's final.”

Harry sighed and stared back at his phone. Why him? Out of all the people in the world, why did this have to have to happen to him? He was a good kid, he did his homework, he didn't bully anyone, and he had tons of friends. Of Course, nothing good lasts forever. Those three monsters had to come in and-

“Harry?” He heard his father say. His voice was still firm, but it was softer and more compassionate. “Are you okay?”

Harry didn't realize that he had been tearing up until he saw small drops on his phone screen through his clouded vision. He quickly wiped it with his jacket sleeve, why was he crying now? Couldn't his body just control itself for one minute? He got up out of his seat and began walking towards the front door.

“I'm fine.” His voice came out as a low whisper. “I'll be in the car.”

Norman placed his coffee and newspaper on the counter. “Wait, Harry.” He began. He watched his son sigh and slowly turn around. The older Osborn put his hands around his son and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Harry listen to me.” He said. “You can do this, alright?”

“I just want you to be happy again. I don't want to see you at home wasting away anymore. You deserve to live your life like a normal kid.”

He watched his son scoff and turn his gaze towards the floor. “Normal kids aren't afraid to go outside.” He murmured.

“I don't want you to be so depressed, Har.” Norman Whispered. He would give almost anything to see his son the way he was before. When he was somewhat cheerful. When he didn't spend most of the day tucked away, under his bedroom covers. Or most of the night's crying and screaming in his sleep.

“I'm not depressed.” Harry said quietly. Maybe he was kinda negative, but with his situation it was understandable. He wasn't suicidal… anymore. And the nightmares were starting to go away. Kind of. “I just don't want to go to school.”

Norman squeezed his son's shoulder in reassurance. “Today will be great, alright? Just be confident.”

“And if anyone says something about you, don't be afraid to hold your ground.”

‘That's kinda hard when you look like Freddie Kruger.’

“Okay.” Harry said. He just agreed with his father to avoid an argument. He saw how much he was wearing his father out, he didn't want to do that anymore. He was a busy man. Harry knew his father had more important things to do then to constantly remind his son that he was safe, and that no one could hurt him anymore. The men that did this were in Jail, and Harry and his father were in New York instead of California. He was safe, he was okay. But even months after; his subconscious didn't seem to get the message.”I’ll try my best.”

∞

The car that Harry and his father rode in hit the breaks when they finally arrived at the school. Or as Harry liked to call it, his own personal hell.

“Remember what I told you, okay?” Norman reassured. “Everything will be fine. Try to make some friends, please?”

The young Osborn let out a deep sigh and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I'll try if they will.” He mumbled

“Have a good day at school, son. I'm proud of you.”

Harry slid his black hood over his head and turned his gaze towards his feet. “Thanks dad, see you later.”

Once he left the car, he felt the cool October air rush over his skin. He slipped both handles of his backpack over his back and continued to walk. He couldn't tell if anyone was looking at him due to his gaze towards the ground. His heart was hammering in his chest with each step he took. He knew it shouldn't take this much effort and energy just to go to school. But everything just felt so exhausting.

He took slow steps inside, being careful not to bump into any of the other kids trying to get to their classes. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't even go to his first period class. He had to go to the main office to get his schedule and locker information. Which meant that by the time they were done explaining all of the information to him, class would've already begun. He would be that last one into the class, standing in front of everyone to gawk at.

Navigation through the school wasn't that hard. There were big letters painted on some of the Walls for the directions to the main office.

Once he got inside, he made his way towards the front desk. He saw an older looking woman with thin rectangle glasses that sat on her nose. He walked up to her and told her his name, hoping to be done with this as soon as possible so he could just get to class and sit in the back. He hoped that no one would notice that he was there.

She was skimming through some papers, signing each with a lazy signature her eyes fixated on anywhere but Harry's figure looming over her. “Good morning… what can I help you wit-” but when she looked up, she gulped, scooting back a little bit in her chair.

_She did it._

_She did that thing._

“What can I help you with?” She asked. Her voice was shaking as she tried to put a small smile on her face. But in all honesty, it looked more like a grimace.

“I’m Harry Osborn.” Harry said. The woman's eyes were still fixated on his figure. “I'm new. I just came to get my class schedule.”

“Right..” she murmured.

“Right right…” she said, her voice slowly seeping into realization. “Osborn… ofcourse.”

Harry watched her get out of her seat towards the back rooms of the office. “I'll be right back.”

“Okay.” Harry whispered. He slowly turned around and took a seat. He sighed and buried his head in his hands, if everyone he met today was going to do that. Then he didn't think that he would be able to deal with the rest of the day. He didn't really blame them though, it was hard not to stare.

_At this point in Harry’s life, he was sure of two things._

_One: His hood and hair weren't doing a very good job of hiding his face._

_Two: This was a big mistake._

  
∞

Harry had been wandering around the empty hallways trying to get to his first period class of AP Chemistry. Just his luck, everyone was already in class. And here he was, the last one in.

Harry made his way towards room 212. ‘This is it.’ He thought. There was so much anxiety seeping through his bloodstream that he had to remind himself to breathe and blink. All he prayed for, was that the other students wouldn't point and whisper. Those two actions were way worse than staring, because when they whispered, he actually knew what was on their mind.

The wooden door was slightly ajar, revealing a streak of light that shone through, illuminating the dark hallway. He took a deep breath and shook his shoulder out. He was fine, he was safe now.

Harry's pale hand pushed the door open as he stepped inside. His hood was still covering most of his face as he stared down at his shoes.

_‘Please don't look at me.’_

_‘Just pretend I don't exist.’_

_‘Pretend the scars on my face don't exist.’_

The classroom was absolutely silent as Harry continued walking through. He internally prayed that he was hiding his face well enough.

“Mr. Osborn?” The teacher called. Her face was turned towards his direction with the same apologetic grin that the woman from the front desk had too.

Harry lifted his head the slightest and looked at his teacher. She pointed towards one of the seats in that back next to A brunette boy, who had fluffy brown hair. He was watching them with his full attention. He was the only student sitting alone.

But right when Harry was about to walk to his seat, the teacher stoped him.

“You need to take off your hood.” She said.

“What?” Harry asked. The one piece of protection that Harry felt that he could value the most? The one piece of clothing that successfully hid the piece of Harry that he wanted no one to see, she wanted it off?

“Your hood.” She repeated. “Off, now.”

“Okay.” Harry whispered quietly.

He slowly lifted the hood off of his body, letting his head feel naked. He felt like he was missing a piece of himself without the hood on him. He could already feel the embarrassment rising on his face.

Harry took large steps, making his way towards the back of the classroom, where he felt like he belonged. Hidden away from everyone and everything.

But while he was walking through the long rows of desks, that's when he saw and heard it.

_The kids were doing it._

_That thing._

As he was walking past them, he heard their whispers, their gasps, and some laughs even. Those hurt the most.

“What the hell is wrong with his face?” One boy whispered. He was tall, athletic, and surrounded by girls.

“It’s so… disgusting … oh my fucking gosh…”

_‘Ouch.’_

He saw another person pointing and whispering to their friends.

He felt so embarrassed. He was trying so hard to keep the tears inside of his body, he couldn't cry now, not in front of all of them. He just wanted to curl up inside of a little ball and hide himself inside one of the corners of his room. Never seeing the light of day ever again. He would be eternally covered in darkness, always and forever. No one would ever have to see his face, and neither would he. And deep down, he didn't really think that anyone had a problem with that.

He slowly slid out the chair and took a seat next to the fluffy haired brunette. He kept his head down towards the desk, turning his head slightly away from the way that the boy was sitting.

But no matter what he did, he still felt the boys eyes on his sides. Harry wanted to snap at him to stop looking at him, but he really didn't want to be a dick today. This kid was just doing what everyone else was doing, he just had the confidence to hold his stare longer than everyone else.

Eventually, Harry gathered enough confidence to turn his head to face the boy. And he was kinda cute too. His fluffy hair was many different shades of brown as it shot all over the place in dozens of different directions. He had big doe eyes that weren't looking at Harry like he thought that they were. They weren't staring him down in disgust or pity, they were staring at him in a small curiosity. Eyes filled with a sense of friendliness that Harry hadn't seen before the accident. From the people he once called his friends.

“Hi.” The other boy said. “I'm...uh…” he seemed like for lost for words.

Harry thought the other boy just finally realized how ugly he really was.

He quickly turned his head away, letting out a small huff in response.

“Peter.” The other boy said. “My name is Peter.”

“Harry.” The young Osborn murmured towards his desk. He and Peter, couldn't be friends. No, it wouldn't work out. He just knew. Peter seemed way to innocent happy to be with someone like Harry. He felt like it was just a bad idea.

“So…” Peter said, leaning a tad bit closer. “Are you new here?”

Before Harry could respond, the other boy interrupted.

“Wait sorry… stupid question.” He murmured, laughing to himself.

Harry scooted his chair just a little bit farther away from peter. Don't get him wrong, peter seemed like a really nice person, and Harry could tell that he was just trying to be friendly. But Harry hadn't been this close to a stranger since the accident. Sometimes, it was even hard to hug his dad.

“Sorry.” The brunette said quietly. “I didn't mean to get too close… I just don't want to seem like a stranger… my dad tells me that I'm kind of a loner… I'm trying to make friends. I don't want to come off as weird or anything… i have a tendency to do that.”

Harry turned to face Peter, who seemed like the poor kid was beating himself up. “It's fine, Peter.” Harry shrugged.

“So.. uhh.. does that mean that we're like… friends?”

 _Harry didn't believe in friends_.

He wanted to say no, but he didn't want to be mean. According to his therapist, he was a pessimist. He still didn't see it though. He internally sighed when he realized that he promised his dad that he would at least try to seem like a normal kid.

“O-Okay..” Harry stuttered out. “S-Sure..

“But why would you want to be my friend?” Harry continued. “I'm not an interesting person…”

“You seem interesting to me.” Peter complimented. “And on the plus side, you're not a bully. I hate bullies.”

“You've just met me though.”

“I know.” The brunette shrugged. “But first impressions are the most important, right?”


	2. Terracotta

Harry flinched as the ringer of the bell bounced off of the classrooms walls. The loud ringing scared him out his subconscious that was lost deeply in thought. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but he knew something terrible was about to happen. He always had that gnawing pain inside of his gut whoever he went out in public. Harry didn't know what it was or where it would come from… but he was just so scared.

 

_All the time._

____________________

_“It doesn't matter if he’s a kid. He's still an Osborn.”_

____________________

 

What if someone tried hurting him, again? The gigantic men that came to his home on that Tuesday evening beat him and tortured him. Leaving his body pulsing with such a dull ache that he was twitching in a bloodied mess on the marble floors of his living room. And then what one of them did to his vulnerable body afterwards caused blood to seep down his thighs instead of oozing out of his skin.

 

_Harry didn't trust anyone._

 

_How could he?_

 

What if the men had eyes everywhere? What if they were already out of jail? They could be _here_ right now… internally laughing at Harry’s piss poor attempt to live a “Normal life.” Waiting until the school day was over, or until he was alone, to finally finish what they-

 

“Harry?” That a familiar voice asked.

 

The blue eyed male jerked away from the gentle touch, whipping his head up and scanning for any sense of danger.

 

_Nope, none. Just a doe eyed kid._

 

He pulled his touch away, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. His facial expression fell into a slight frown that reminded Harry of how his own presence must of made people feel. How his existence consumes all of the joy and the lightheartedness in the room. Only leaving a desolated sense of anguish in it's wake.

 

Brown eyes blinked repeatedly. “Sorry…” He replied. “I didn't mean to scare you… it's just that class ended and you haven't moved. Did you hear the bell?”

 

_‘Obviously not if I didn’t move.’_

 

_‘Don't be a jerk. Not today, not to him. He’s just trying to be nice.’_

 

_‘No, he's not. He isn't a nice person, that's what he wants me to believe. He just wants something from me.’_

 

_‘But what could it be? I'm completely worthless.’_

 

 _“_ I guess I didn't.” Harry mumbled, getting out of his chair. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and started walking towards the door. It seemed like everyone was already gone, and he and Peter were the only two left inside.

 

When Harry turned around to face the brunette again, he was taking slow steps closer, his head buried into a single sheet of white paper.

 

“It looks like we have English… Calculus … and History together.” He smiled. A grin rising to both of his cheeks and brightening up his entire face.

 

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had smiled like that, or seen a smile like that directed towards him. One that was actually genuine, not filled with a nervous pity.

 

The look made Harry feel something kinda warm inside… He guessed that it was probably nausea.

 

“You're also taking psychology and business management…”  Peter murmured, his eyes widening in amusement.

 

“Grool!” He exclaimed.

 

Harry rose an eyebrow when he heard the brunette's response. He had never heard the term _‘grool’_ before. Was it a compliment? Unlikely,  why would someone like Peter compliment someone like him?

 

“Grool?” He questioned.

 

Peter giggled, handing Harry back his schedule. “It means great and cool.” He explained, “Haven't you ever seen Mean girls?”

 

“I've had my fair share of mean girls…” Harry admitted, his voice was barely a whisper. He remembered a couple weeks after he got discharged from the hospital he went for a walk, wasn’t his idea, his dad forced him to. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants with a black hood that covered his head. Cursing under his breath, hoping that it would hide his face too. But he knew he wasn't fortunate enough to have that.

 

He could remember that day as if it happened yesterday. He was walking along one of the sidewalks in the semi-crowded streets of New York. Keeping his head down, as usual, trying to hide himself away in his oversized clothing. Everything was great, perfect actually, until he actually bumped into someone.

 

He made the mistake of accidentally looking up at her, trying to mutter an apology. When her eyes made contact on him, they swelled up with an indescribable amount of horror. Her friend behind her slowly pulled her away like Harry was about to attack them…

 

_He wasn't._

 

The girl holding her startled friend whispered something that Harry wished he hadn't heard.

 

_“He is a living example of why you shouldn't do drugs… just back away slowly. Don't startle him. Don’t make him lash out.”_

 

Harry ripped his mind away from the memory, continuing his conversation with Peter. “And i've never heard any mean girls say grool before.”

 

“No, not actual mean girls...” Peter shook his head. Harry’s confusion was a little bit hilarious if he were being honest. “I meant the movie.”

 

“Uh… no.” Harry said. “I've never heard of it.”

 

“You should come over sometime.” Peter blurted, jumping a little bit closer to the now startled boy under him.

 

 _‘Keep it together.’_ Peter thought to himself. He didn't want to scare him off like he did with all of his other friends. Thank god, he still had Gwen.

 

He resumed their previous distance, about an arm’s length apart. “We could... watch it together.”

 

“It's okay if you don't want to…”

 

“I'll have..  to ask my Dad.” Harry replied hesitantly. But that was only half true. He knew his father would've said yes. Any excuse for Harry to get out of the house and _‘interact’_ with people was like a dream come true. “But thanks for the offer.”

 

∞

 

The two walked side by side in the hallway towards their next class, English. Harry felt the tension between him and Peter increase the longer they moved in silence. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He used to be a social person, but spending a summer tucked away from society because you're physically and mentally unable to answer a door really butchered his confidence.

 

Osborn bit his tongue, it was better to say nothing. Maybe he didn't completely trust Peter because he didn't really know what his motives were. And him, not saying anything and distancing their already weak relationship was his body’s personal way of protecting itself from anymore future harm. It was simple. If he had no friends, then he couldn’t get hurt.

 

“-certain substances react to certain acids and bases-” Harry heard Peter ramble on. The brunette's voice was louder than usual as it had an edge of excitement to it.

 

It dawned on Harry that it wasn’t silent between them, he was just accidentally tuning Peter out with his thoughts.

 

_Whops._

 

“Wait, what?” Harry spoke up, turning his gaze upwards towards the fluffy haired brunette.

 

Peter looked down at the shorter male curiously, “We have a Chemistry project.” He said.

 

He began to run his hands through his hair nervously. Damn, Harry made him really nervous. Whenever he stared into his mesmerizing oceanic eyes, it was like he was embraced with an overwhelming sense of adoration. The cerulean eyes were filled with an indescribable amount of mystery. The aura was dark and beautiful like the impending nightfall finally showing its purity from the falling sun. It left Peter wanting to know more, but the coolness chilled peter over. He was lost for words whenever he stared at him for too long. It took all the courage Peter had to ask Harry to be his partner the first time, and now he had to ask again. Dammit.

 

_‘Okay, don't ramble. Remember what Gwen said, “Don't be a creep.” ‘_

 

“Oh. Fun.” The brunette heard Harry mutter sarcastically, rolling his eyes. His voice filled to the maximum with an overflowing unamusement.

 

_‘Here's your chance. Don't screw it up Peter.’_

 

Peter cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you… y’know want to… I don't know maybe… uhh… my house later on… for the project… thingy”

 

_‘Fuck.’_

 

“Um...” Harry said. His voice rose in confusion.

 

Peter turned his head away and looked towards the ground. Harry was doing that _thing_ with his oceanic eyes. To the brunette it seemed like Harry was giving him a look that was penetrating his soul, desperately looking for answers. Peter was absolutely lost for words.

 

_‘Get it together.’_

 

“We could … be together… you an I?”

 

“I mean it’s totally… grool oops, I mean cool if you… y’know… don't want to be with me and already have a partner…”

 

“I don't-” Harry tried to muster out, but he was cut short by the rambling brunette.

 

“Wait… stupid question… you don't have a partner I was sitting next to you… sorry.”

  


Harry watched as Peter’s features went from embarrassed to immediately apologetic. He started running his hands through his hair, again. This time, quicker than before.

 

“Not that there's anything wrong with you… I mean there's absolutely nothing wrong with you… you’re super grool and cool…”

 

“I mean… _I_ personally think you are… super duper awesome… you look really great and nice and stuff... you see it's just that I didn't see you … umm… talk to anyone... not that there's anything wrong with _not_ talking to someone… it’s just that umm..”

 

Peter chuckled nervously as he felt the fire rise up to his cheeks.  

 

_‘I screwed it up… again…’_

 

_‘Harry was probably going to politely decline and never speak to me again in five.... four… three… two… one…”_

 

_But he didn't._

 

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable and tense, but the answer that left his lips flooded relief into Peter’s bloodstream. “S-Sure…”  He stammered, an obvious forced smile left his lips. “I'll work with you.”

 

∞

 

Harry entered the cafeteria behind Peter, closely following him like a lost child. The lunch room was massive and filled with dozens and dozens of people. Harry hadn’t been in a crowded place since the accident. Even the therapy sessions didn’t have this many people. Anxiety made its way through Harry’s body. Waves of paranoia washed over him, causing him to glance over his shoulders repeatedly.

 

_There were so many people._

 

And they all seemed to fit in wherever they needed to be. None of them stood out from each other. They all looked _‘normal_.’ Harry took a realistic look at himself. How could he, the one who will always be looked down on, be like them? They all had lives, they all weren't afraid to talk, they weren’t afraid to go outside. they weren’t dreading life.

 

It was as if Harry was inside of a tiny, dark, black box. Only he could enter, there was only enough room for _him_ . His _new_ life wasn't meant to be shared with anyone else, he didn't want to share his misfortune with them, he couldn’t. He was supposed to walk the world alone, forever. He was more trouble than he was worth. Damaged goods. It would be cruel to try and drag someone through the muck with him.

 

It was just written in his destiny to be cold, broken, and alone. Ever since his mother-

 

“Harry?” Peter called. He was already sitting at one of the round tables with someone else. They were both looking at him with an unsettling amount of concern.

 

The brunette had a textbook opened in front of him. There was also a blonde girl sitting across, trying to steal his attention from the book by snapping her fingers. Harry remembered her, she was the girl from English, Gwen Stacy.

 

Harry didn't notice that he had stopped moving in the middle of the cafeteria and spaced out. He did that often, and it was getting quite annoying. He sighed, glancing at his feet and made his way towards the table. He had to stop doing that.

 

Suddenly, a shove came into Harry’s small body, _almost_ sending him plummeting towards the floor. He looked up, seeing a blond guy who looked like he had more than his fill of steroids, his massive muscles hiding in his oversized varsity jacket.

 

_‘A classic jock… fuck.’_

 

Harry stared up at him with panic written all over his face. The blond had a bottle in his hand that spilled water all over his clothes. Leaving a puddle on the floor from the liquid dripping down his shirt.

 

“Sorry… I didn't mean-” Harry mustered out, but he was interrupted by the guy taking a good look at his wet clothes and yelling.

 

“What the hell?!” He rose his voice as he looked down at Harry. A surge of fury engulfed the blond, causing him to throw the bottle onto the floor making an even more water to pool out and make a bigger puddle.

 

“You think you're funny, don't you freak?” He asked, taking a couple steps closer to the blue eyed male. There chests were only inches apart, Harry could feel the hot air coming from his flaring nostrils.

 

Harry’s head shook as he scooted away. This guy was too close, he hadn’t been this close to anyone since the accident. He could feel his heartbeat pound in his ears as his voice started quake. “No…” He admitted. “it was an accident.”

 

“Accident my ass.” He growled, clenching his fists

 

_Then he paused._

 

The blond leaned his head closer to Harry’s, using his brown eyes to scan his face in an overwhelming self esteem, crushing disgust. He had his lips turned up into a grimace as he took note of the pale scars that were on the other boy’s skin.

 

Harry could feel the glare in his bones, seeping through his skin, piercing him.

 

_‘Stop.’_

 

_‘Please… just don't look at me..’_

 

“What the fuck is wrong with your face?” The guy, instinctively brought his hand to try and _touch_ Harry.

 

The blue eyed angrily smacked the wandering hand away from him. “D-Don't… touch… m-me…” His voice trembled. He tried to muster out enough venom to seem intimidating, but he couldn't. Fear engulfed his figure, the guy in front of him was big, just like the men that showed up at his house. Looming over him, touching him, hurting him, shouting hateful words at him like he was worth nothing.

 

The hand gripped the side of Harry’s face harshly turning the scars towards his greedy eyes. How could this kid’s parents even stand to look at his face everyday? His scars made the guy’s stomach churn.  He had never seen anyone that looked like this in his entire life. It was horrifying to stare at, but impossible to peel his eyes away from.

 

_Harry’s mind was back in California._

 

_That Tuesday evening_

 

_He heard a couple of knocks on the door._

 

Someone was invading his personal space, he felt smothered. His body was burning, his skin was becoming clammier by the minute. Harry’s breathing was beginning to stagger, large hands felt like they were grasped tightly around his neck, closing off his air supply, leaving him gasping for air. Just like he was when _they_ had beaten his body on the floor, kicked his abdomen repeatedly, and laughed while they did it. He couldn't scream or cry for help, there was too much of the crimson liquid hanging in the back of his throat.

 

He was being hurt again, he was choking on his blood, he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die.

 

_‘I'm going to die.’_

 

_‘I'm going to die.’_

 

He heard voices, it must've been _their_ voices. They were coming back for him, finally returning to finish the job that they started. Thousands of needles were piercing Harry's skin, sending a radiating pain that affected all of his limbs, leaving him trembling from where he was standing. Vertigo dominated his vision as he heard his heartbeat in his ears. Harry had to leave, he had to escape, he couldn't go through all of the torture again.

 

_He was scared of death._

 

“-answer me, scarface!”

 

Harry wouldn't let himself get taken advantage of again. He may not of been able to fight back, but he could run.

 

_Something he learned from his mom._

 

“Get the fuck away from me!” Harry screamed, pushing the guy away from his body. The fear, regret, and anxiety transformed into a rage that manifested in his voice.

 

_‘Be strong.’_

 

_‘I can't be weak anymore.’_

 

The blond in front of Harry stumbled backwards, taken aback due to the sudden blow to his shoulders.

 

Harry took this moment to get out, get out to safety. Attempting to try and escape the prison that was his mind.

 

Deep down, he knew that he couldn't run from something already inside of him. Burned Into his brain and stitched into his eyelids. The images and the memories always there when he closed his eyes, and when he went to sleep. Plaguing his dreams, spreading horrific nightmares through his subconscious.

 

_But he was going to try and run anyway._

 

He used his legs to bolt out of the cafeteria, pushing past all of the people in his way. He wasn't going to be weak again, he wasn't going to be vulnerable again.

 

He wouldn't be taken advantage of, ever again.

 

∞

 

Harry was running through the hallways as best as he could. Gasping for air, the feeling of blood still hanging in his throat. The tears in his eyes blurred his vision, making it almost impossible to see anything.

 

_Thump_

 

_Thump_

 

_Thump_

 

Harry couldn't tell if the sound was from his heart, or from the boots of the men still chasing him.

 

_‘They're going to kill me.’_

 

_‘I'm going to die.’_

 

Harry tried whipping around, but he couldn't see anything. He thought the blindfolds on his face were back, they had him. They were going to _almost_ beat him to death again.

 

His knees began to buckle under his weight. He wished that he went numb, but that wasn't his luck. The universe wanted him to be in agony, always and forever.

 

His breaths were exhaustingly short as his chest was tightening, sending ripple like muscular contractions through his body.

 

He was choking on his own blood, he was drowning in it.

 

_‘I can't breathe. I'm dying.’_

 

His heart was bashing in his ears, sending shockwaves through his head.

 

_Boots pounding on the marble floors of his home._

 

_Thump_

 

_Thump_

 

_Thump_

 

_‘They're after me.’_

 

A wave of dizziness pulled Harry towards the ground. He collapsed, trying so desperately to get up, but he couldn't. Each limb weighed more than he could handle. He wasn't strong enough anymore. He was exhausted, he was tired. He couldn't do it anymore.

 

_‘No… I have to hide… so they can't get to me…’_

 

It took all of the strength he had left to move his body across the tile floor, pressing his back against a wall. He cowered as he brought his knees to his chest, putting his body into a defensive ball. His tears stained his jeans as he rested his head onto his legs.

 

He was shaking, letting out hitched breaths trying to calm himself. He wrapped both of his hands over his head, his grip tightening on his brown hair. He just wanted the thoughts to stop. He wanted the memories to go away.

 

His sense of reality was fading along with the last grip of protection he thought that he had.

 

He didn't know where he _really_ was. Dreadful images went to his blood that was splattered onto the walls of his old home. His clothes were ripped, shredded, trashed. His pale, naked body resembled a mad man’s murderous canvas as it lied, unable to move. But still trying it's best to hide. Trying _desperately_ not to feel so exposed.

 

_‘I'm already dying.’_

 

_‘I've been poisoned… I'm dying.’_

 

_‘I'm not sick, I'm dying.’_

 

“-arry, Can you hear me?” A voice asked, it sounded

familiar.

 

Too familiar.

 

_‘He found me. He’s going to finish the job.’_

 

_‘He’s going to kill me.’_

 

A hand found its way on one of Harry’s knees. The touch sent him into a fighting like mode, but he just couldn't move. His limbs were too heavy, everything was too much for him to handle.

 

_‘He is going to bash your knee in with a hammer, again. He's going to break your leg.’_

 

_‘Don't be weak.’_

 

_‘Don't be weak.’_

 

Harry jerked his body away from the touch, Scooting away as much as he could. He had to try and protect himself, until his last dying breath.“ _DON’T_ _TOUCH ME!”_ He cried, his voice flooded with tears.

 

The voice was silent for a couple seconds, but then it spoke again. “S-Sorry.” It said. “You're upset… but it's okay. You’ll be safe...with me.”

 

_‘The voice is lying… i'm not safe… I will never be safe.’_

 

“You're not real…” Harry murmured, shaking his head. “Just...leave... me alone…please… you're not real… you're not real… you're not real.”

 

“....I’m very real… and… everything will get...erm… better...” The other voice was shaking too, “Umm...I’m going to… uh...help you.”

 

_‘I don't need help… I need to be alone… I need to hide.’_

 

“If I weren't real…then I wouldn't be able to touch you…” The voice blurted.

“I'm just gonna...umm… hold your hand, okay? … i’m real… I'm very real… and I'm not going to hurt you, I promise…. you're safe.”

 

Harry flinched away as he felt a warm hand try to hold his clammy one.

 

_‘Please don’t hurt me.’_

 

“You're alright… you're safe now… with me.” The voice whispered.

 

The hand held onto Harry’s loosely, applying tiny reassuring squeezes every couple of seconds.

 

“You're here.” It soothed. “At school. With me.”

 

“Now you're ...umm… going to count with me.” The voice asked. “Five second breaths in and out, alright? It's easy… I'll show you...”

 

 _“5...”  It said, inhaling and exhaling for the full duration_.

 

_“4...”_

 

_“3...”_

 

_“2...”_

 

_“1...”_

 

“Your turn… you've got this, don't worry.”

 

Harry shook his head in his knees frantically. He was suffocating, his chest hurt, _he was hurting_. “I can't… I can't do this.” He cried.

 

“Yes you can… _I_ believe in _you_.”

 

 _“5...”  Harry began. Inhaling and exhaling for the full duration_.

 

_“4...”_

 

_“3...”_

 

_“2...”_

 

_“1...”_

 

Saddened blue eyes slowly lifted  in shame, staring at the figure sitting down in front of him. Gripping his pale, bony hands in his gently. A nervous half smile rising on the face of the person that had that all too familiar fluffy brown hair.

 

_Peter_

  


“You're gonna be alright.” The brunette whispered, his voice surrounded by a gentle embrace, not filled with pity, but coated in a deep affection.

 

With that grin which brought the same nauseous feeling back into Harry’s body.

 

_“I got you.”_

  


∞

 

Norman picked Harry up from school after that.

 

Harry _didn't_ say anything.

 

Norman _couldn't_ say anything.

 

After arriving at home, Norman tried to start a conversation with his son. He wanted to know what was going on and how he could help. He didn't want Harry to suffer anymore, he just wanted him to be his son again.

 

The little boy who was a bit clingy at first, never wanting to leave his father’s side. Always wanting to be in his office, just observing with his piercing blue eyes. Not saying anything at all, just being with his father was enough for him. The biggest smile plastered on his face whenever he met someone or something new. Kindhearted to all, and mean to none. Even the ones that would hurt him in anyway.

 

_Not this._

 

An empty shell of who he used to be. Barely eating, rarely sleeping. A depressive embrace consuming him, his thoughts, and his actions. Leaving him feeling numb for days on end. Norman even remembered the overflowing grief he felt when he had found Harry’s body in one of their bathtubs.

 

_Unresponsive._

 

_Not breathing._

 

_To the doctors, It was a miracle that Harry didn't lose too much blood from the deep slash marks on his thighs._

 

Norman offered to stay home with Harry and keep him company. But his offer was turned down.

 

_“I'm fine.” Harry said. “You should go to work, I'll just be sleeping anyways.”_

 

Harry felt ashamed.

 

_So embarrassed._

 

He broke down at school, in front at everyone. And now, they were all going to think that he was weak.

 

_How could he continue living like this?_

 

It was difficult to even open his eyes in the morning. The doctors said it was a miracle that he was even alive. Harry didn't believe that, though. It was hard getting out of bed some days and looking in the mirror. He hated himself, Period. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

The scars on his body didn't represent _“strength_ ” or _“courage._ ” Like his Dad said.

 

They were reminders of all of Harry’s failures.

 

_‘If I wasn’t being so… so… stupid…’_

 

And because of that, Harry would be plagued with the memories of that day. He would get flashbacks, or rounds of panic over the dumbest things. He couldn't focus, live, or concentrate on anything or anyone. He couldn't make relationships because he was too scared of ruining it, like he ruined everything.

 

_Which was probably why his mom walked out on his family._

 

Harry thought that maybe sleep would be a good escape. He could go to a place into his mind where he wasn't happy, sad, or scared. He just wanted a brief moment in his life where he could feel… nothing, where he could finally be at peace.

 

However, the universe just _really_ hated him.

 

He would be reliving all of those memories. Each one worse than the last. When he felt the rusted, jagged blade split the skin on his face, going deep enough to rip the muscles with ease. He remembered all of their faces, staring down at him in amusement and pleasure. The kicks, the punches, and the slaps were all still _very_ vivid in his subconscious mind.

 

And then, the thing that one of them did which was the reason why Harry couldn't build or keep bonds with people, or trust them.

 

What one of the men did to his beaten body inside of his bedroom.

 

_Not even having the decency to cover him back up, leaving him naked and shivering until Norman came home._

 

Only exchanging a simple sentence when he was done.

______________

 

_“No one is going to want you now. You're worthless.”_

______________

  


Harry took a nap after he came home. Praying to sleep peacefully for once. But God never answered his prayer.

 

Eventually his father came home with a white prescription bag in his hands. Like the ones that are given by the hospital, Harry had seen more than enough of those.

 

Norman carefully put his hand on his sleeping son’s shoulder, trying to awaken him.

 

Harry abruptly sat up, jerking away from the touch and his father shushed him, reminding him that “He was safe.” _The usual._

 

_“Dad, what's going on?” Harry asked._

 

Norman nudged the bag in his son's direction, his voice was reassuring. _“These will make you feel better, I promise.”_

 

Harry hesitantly took the bag and pulled out the clear bottle of green pills that were inside. His blue eyes dropped as he scanned the _all too familiar_ label.

 

**ANTIDEPRESSANT**

 

**DULOXETINE**

 

**60 mg**

 

**25 TABLETS**

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed! It literally makes my day! :)


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